Most politicians have the ability to communicate well and to persuade others – in fact, politics is defined as “the art or science of influencing other people on a civic or individual level”.

The problem is, when faced with traditional media setups – doorstops, press conferences or morning TV shows – politicians become so risk-averse they lose all semblance of this innate ability. Any ill-judged, off-the-cuff remark is likely to be replayed over and over as part of the mainstream media wash-cycle. So they’re advised that it’s better to not lose, rather than to win: either by being a small target (as exemplified by Tony Abbott), or bybeing the everyman who doesn't rise above his station (Kevin Rudd).

Rudd’s return to the prime ministerial office has him determined to throw out both his Mandarin-peppered speeches and his tendency to behave like a pedantic bureaucrat cursing the incompetence of his minions. As he apparently told Victorian premier Denis Naphine recently, "Rudd rebooted" is just “a regular guy, rocking around Australia and cooking with gas.” It is, of course, a deliberate attempt to recast himself from the domineering, impenetrably intellectual PM of old, so loathed by some of his colleagues that they’d sooner walk than serve under him again.

Meanwhile, Abbott, who reasonably thought the biggest challenge he was going to have in winning this year’s election was choosing the exact hue of blue tie to wear on victory night, is suddenly faced with a contender and may need to change his script. After a combative couple of years where he opposed nearly everything – in his mind, the Opposition’s duty – he emerged in 2013 ready to look the prime ministerial goods.

It was all going so well. But suddenly, the spiel about putting the Coalition being the only “adults in the room” is getting tired – especially with Rudd living it up in the honeymoon suite after deposing Gillard.

For now, Rudd is controlling the conversation, poking the bear and goading Abbott to reprise his former skin – the “boxing blue” who’d throw a wayward punch into a wall in a fit of uncontrolled rage. The Abbott who would make a gaffe of misogynistic proportions. The Abbott who would shake off his advisors shouting from the corner, “no more negative tones!” throw his gloves to the floor, and pummel his “nerdy, bespectacled, library-going,” opponent with “stop the boats, end the waste and other variations of 'no'”.

What politicians seem to be missing is that we prefer to see their true selves – voters can spot insincerity a mile away. We witnessed the farce that was created during the last federal election campaign, when “real Julia” tried to break through her carefully choreographed but ineffective campaign bubble.

The image that best captured Gillard’s openness, warmth and humour was taken by 12-year-old Sophie Deane on her iPad, following an impromptu request from the youngster with Down's Syndrome. It is a picture that's hard to look away from, in that it so beautifully captures a relaxed and candid woman, whose genuine excitement and sincerity about launching a new policy to help the very person who's taking her picture is palpable.

By many accounts, Abbott is warm, personable and capable of talking in things other than three-word slogans in intimate settings. However, put him in front of a camera, and he morphs into a talking piece of cardboard, peppering his responses with "look..." as though everything that follows is of great import and consequence.

When political journalist Annabel Crabb is invited into a politician's intimate space for the ABC’s Kitchen Cabinet, she is there not to catch them out, but to capture them – honestly, candidly and in all their vulnerable and often humorous splendour. We often learn more about their politics and what inspires them than in a year of trite soundbites drawn from the much-maligned "talking points" (referred to by Joel Fitzgibbon in his rant about the scripts dolled out by advisors).

The problem is the colossal disconnect between what the media want (sensationalist headlines), what the politicians want to give (consistent party lines) and what Australians want to hear (plain speak that creates a compelling vision, while explaining what's happening and when). Until this is resolved, pull up a chair and refill your popcorn, because the show will unfortunately go on.